


Right This Ship

by Miss_Mil



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Cutthroat Competition, F/M, Feels, Gen, Not Another Shuttle Down, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mil/pseuds/Miss_Mil
Summary: "Pleasure of love lasts but a moment. Pain of love lasts a lifetime."— Bette Davis





	1. You Took a Piece of Me

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Round 1 of the JC Cutthroat Competition. 
> 
> An AU set in the unaltered timeline of 'Endgame'. 
> 
> Thank you to Helen8462 for the numerous beta reads, and assistance when I almost threw in the proverbial towel.

* * *

**Written to the prompt:** ‘Pleasure of love lasts but a moment. Pain of love lasts a lifetime.’ – Bette Davis.

* * *

 

“Chakotay!” she yells. “You have to try!" 

I am breathing deep and trying to stay still. I am so desperately working to keep my eyes open and looking at her but all I can think is _this hurts._

It's late, it's dark, and we are stuck on some damn planet thousands of light years from home. I have no idea how or why she ends up in front of me, small hands pressing insistently into my chest to stem the rapid flow of blood.

All I know is whatever it is she is doing _hurts_.

And, it's her damn fault we are here in the first place.

She’s trying to move me, dragging me across a dirt floor as my unfocused eyes stare at a sky filled with flashing clouds. I can hear her gasping sobs in between each forced breath. She can’t move me; I’m too heavy. I know I need to stand, to help her and move my own weight but I’m far too tired to try 

“I need you to do this!” she cries, tugging with painful force on what’s left of my tattered uniform. She tries unsuccessfully to haul me up, as if she is trying to pull me away from the darkness that’s threatening to claim me in this instant.

And it’s so easy to let it.   

I can see it though, the black spots appearing on the edges of my vision as my eyelids grow exponentially heavy. I’ve been here before - floating to an unknown destination. This time, I know I won’t walk away like I have before.

I can’t bring myself to say goodbye to her because I’d never wanted to find out what lay on the other side of that darkness. Over the years, I’d had so many chances, so many close calls that I’ve lost count. In the last seven years I’d never needed to follow that darkness, because living had somehow become important to me. I’d made a promise to her, to be by her side

Only now… it’s different.

Because the years that passed us by since I made that promise have not been kind.  I had a wife that needed me by her side and a Captain that was so far gone that she doesn’t need anyone anymore.

“Chakotay!” she calls, and my fading vision tries to focus on her face. “I can’t do this without you,” she implores and I think I have never heard her sound so desperate.

Except perhaps once, a long time ago when I caught a glimpse of a vulnerable woman who needed something from me. I remember now, suddenly, just how intrigued I had become by her in those early years of our journey, and how quickly she had worked her way under my skin.  

_“God! Why won’t you just work?”_

_I heard the scream, followed by the sound of something heavy impacting the shared wall between our quarters._

I’m breathing harder now, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to focus on the memory rather than the pain washing over me. It’s been so long since I’ve dared to relive those early days, those early memories where my hopes and dreams had not been so far away.

Where, in the beginning of our journey, it had never been too much to push forward, telling myself that one day the Captain would one day come to me and leave her principles behind. I’d forgotten now, what it was like in those early years to look forward to those moments on the bridge where she’d turn, look at me and whisper something meant solely for my ears. 

The silent electricity that had sparked between us, even then, had been hard to ignore.

I remember that day so well now. It was the day I realised that whatever had begun between us, no matter how unexpected, was never going to stop.

I have known many strong women in my life, but Kathryn Janeway was something else entirely. Despite the ranks, beliefs and institutions that separated us, I never hesitated that evening to go to her, curiosity mixed with hesitation burning in my chest as I’d heard a second thump hit our shared wall. I did not even think to comm her first, or inquire with the computer as to her whereabouts.

* * *

 

_My small supper lay forgotten on the table as I almost ran out of my quarters, rounding the small curve in the hall before coming to stand outside her door._

_It was only later, much later, when I lay in my darkened quarters unable to sleep that I realised it wasn’t the sound of the thudding against the wall, nor the curiosity that compelled me to run to her door. It was the sheer desperation in her voice, muffled but hoarse with frustration and tears._

_It was a sound so unlike anything I came to expect from her._

_“Captain?” I called, pressing the chime with my thumb and giving it all of two seconds before entering my override and stepping into her darkened quarters._

_It had taken a moment to adjust to the dim light, and I squinted my eyes. I looked down, automatically focusing on the mess of what looked like replicator parts scattered about the regulation grey of the Starfleet carpet._

_“Captain?”_

_She appeared then, obviously startled by my voice in her otherwise silent quarters at this time of the night. She stood in the doorway to her bedroom, the faint glow of the stars casting a small silhouette onto the floor._

_I hardly recognised her, hair flowing freely over bare shoulders. It was such a contrast to the tight bun she wore on duty that for a moment she looked entirely like a different person. It was the first time I saw her in anything other than a red and black uniform, and the image of her standing there, in nothing more than a pink nightgown and a mess of auburn hair stayed with me for years._

_She stared at me, disbelief on her features. The starlight reflected off the tear tracks that streaked her pale cheeks._

_“Commander?”_

_Her voice was small and fragile in the silence of her quarters._

_“Commander, I am sorry if I have disturbed you,” she said after a moment. Her bare arm waved in the general direction toward the mess at my feet._

_“It’s not a problem, Captain,” I said, clearing my throat. “Is everything alright?”_

_She took a deep breath, shrugging her shoulders as she glanced up at the ceiling. I was so taken the with expanse of her pale throat, hypnotised by the way her muscles moved as she swallowed._

_“Everything is fine, thank you Commander,” she said, levelling her gaze to look at me again._

_“Chakotay,” I corrected automatically and the confusion had registered in her eyes. I moved then, bending down to pick up a piece of what I now recognised as her replicator, holding it out with a laugh. “What happened?”_

_She looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I called it a glorified toaster and it now hates me.”_

_I laughed for real then, and she looked at me with feigned anger. For here, in front of me, stood the almighty Captain Janeway dressed in little more than a scrap of silk with bare feet and tear-streaked cheeks, defeated by a replicator which now lay in pieces on her floor._

_I thought for a second that she was going to tell me to get out, to leave and never speak of it again. She spun on her heel and vanished into the room behind her and I was left standing amongst the bits and pieces littering the floor._

_I dropped the piece I’d been holding, the sound echoing throughout the room. I sighed kneeling down to start sorting the pieces with the intent to piece them back together. I was so focused on the job that her small hand on my shoulder startled me, and she jumped back in surprise._

_“Sorry,” she said, opening her mouth to add what I knew was ‘Commander’, only she paused and thought it over before adding a shy: “Chakotay.”_

_I smiled, the feeling of my name coming from her lips becoming something I could get used to. “What were you trying to do?”_

_She drew herself up, preparing to justify her actions and it was then that I noticed she had gone to put on a matching robe. “I wanted a coffee. Damn thing never does what I want it to do.”_

_“At this time of night?” I questioned, getting the sinking feeling that this was going to be something of a battle between us for the next seventy-five years. “Maybe the replicator was trying to tell you something.”_

_“I like it.”_

_Sighing, I met her blue eyes, crystal clear and shining bright from my place kneeling on her floor. “Should I get you one from_ my _replicator? And then we can put this one back together.”_

“Yes _,_ ” _she all but cried._

_I nodded, smothering a grin and standing up straight. I stumbled a little bit, my bad knee protesting from staying on the floor a little bit too long and I nearly crashed into her. She smiled, a small but genuine smile, and reached out to steady me with a petite hand on my arm._

_The warmth of her fingers shocked me, causing small shivers and she dropped her hand with surprise. I stepped back, the feeling of needing to leave growing with each passing second._

_I often wondered over the passing months if she had realised just how close I had come to pulling her closer rather than stepping back._

_She must have, because she muttered a small goodnight and I never returned with her coffee._

_But I could never forget the desperation in her voice, the sheer frustration as she’d shouted. She’d really needed someone in that moment, and I am forever grateful that it had been me who chose to stand at her door._

* * *

 

Over the years, I’d heard that desperation only a few more times. Eventually, she had stopped showing me her weaknesses, choosing to hide them once more behind the closed doors of her quarters or ready room. Only now she sits before me, fiercely begging me to fight as I lay dying right in front of her. The feel of the memory is shattered by her frantic sob, the raw emotion on her agonised face taking me by surprise.

She’d older now, her hair shorter and a little less auburn. But, she’s still as beautiful as ever. There’s a small, private need behind the anguish in her eyes and I can’t place it. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to.

“I need you to try to hang on, Chakotay,” she shouts, looking away for a moment in a vain attempt to prevent me from seeing the tears starting to tumble down her flushed cheeks.

I croak out her name, trying as much as I can muster to voice a promise to her I know I will not be able to keep. A promise that says I’ll keep trying, only for her.

Because even now, in my final moments, it’s the truth.

* * *

 


	2. A Long Time Ago

* * *

 

I can hear the wind. It is loud, and unforgiving as it whistles through the crevasse we find ourselves in. Our situation hasn’t changed much, I gather, as I begin to wake up. We are still on the planet. The scenery – what little of it I can see from my position – has altered in its appearance, and I gather that Kathryn must have been at least mildly successful in dragging me a little further away from falling shuttle debris. 

I have to admit, I am a little surprised to be waking up. Above me, the sky is still flashing with intermittent lighting.

The small, insistent pressure on my forearm tells me Kathryn is still here, and that our rescue team is not.

“Kathryn,” I say, with as much clarity as I can. My earlier anger at her has begun to wane. I have an overwhelming need to see her face again because I’m convinced that I won’t be able to see her for much longer.

“Chakotay,” she answers, coming into my field of vision. “You’re awake.”

From the way she is breathing those last two words, I can tell she’s surprised that I’ve woken up as well. It frightens me, to see her fears because in seven years, she’s never allowed anyone to see them. She’s accepting my death.

I shouldn’t be surprised though, because when I think about it, I’ve accepted my death too.

“How long?” I croak out, finally.

Her brow creases, and I know her answer is not going to be the one either of us want to hear. “About two hours.”

The words are soft, quiet. Like she is finally accepting that the two hours she’s just spent in a crevasse on an alien world is going to be how she will spend the rest of her journey back to the Alpha Quadrant.

Alone, and mostly in the darkness.

I nod, as much as I am able. She’s so quiet that I almost miss her next words. Her voice is strained and hoarse from shouting. But it’s not just from the last few hours. We’ve been shouting at each other for months. Ever since my wife died and I needed someone to blame.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up.”

My eyes open wider, and I try to sit up. Small hands push me back down and my head thumps against the hard rocks. “Stay down, Chakotay. _Please._ ”

Her movements seem less frantic than before, but she looks tired. I can see the tension gathering around her eyes, the way her brow creases with worry each time she looks down to her fine, elegant hands pushing insistently against my chest.

“I don’t know where _Voyager_ is,” she says. I can hear the cracks in her voice, the stoic captain beginning to crumble with each beat of my slowing heart. Her hand trembles as she digs small fingers into the cooling flesh of my forearm.

She’s terrified.

“I’m sorry, Kathryn.”

She turns to me, blue eyes narrowing in the darkness. The flashes above reflect off the sharp planes of her face, the light avoiding her in a way that shows me her inner turmoil.

“You shouldn’t have done it.”

The anger in her words is unmistakable. I can’t help myself, and I huff out a laugh.

“It was part of my duty.”

She swallows thickly, eyes glancing down to the red stains of my uniform jacket. Her lips purse together in a thin line and I know now that even she can’t argue with my Vulcan-clad logic. _Voyager_ needs her Captain if they are ever going to make it home, and that title was never destined to come to me.

Her beautiful eyes fill with tears and she glances away. A shaky hand swipes angrily under her lids and bright red streaks of my own blood mark her flawless skin. It’s haunting to me in the fading light.

“You shouldn’t have done it, Chakotay,” she repeats. I can hear what she doesn’t say.

 _It should be me lying there._   

I hear her words. I listen to them, just like I have always done.

But this time - this final time – I don’t agree with her.

I can see the flashes overhead, growing with intensity as the wind picks up again. It reminds me of the flashing console I saw behind her as the _Delta Flyer_ began to shout out warnings about our imminent crash-landing. If we hadn’t been so busy arguing at the time, we might have been able to save the _Flyer_ instead of just ourselves.

Instead of _only_ Kathryn.

We might have been able to prevent the crash all together, and then I wouldn’t be laying here dying on a barren world, waiting for death to take me to my waiting wife.                         

In those moments before the crash, Kathryn had been so angry. I don’t even remember what it was we were really arguing about, but it doesn’t matter anymore. The reason behind our anger had long-since been forgotten and our friendship was now defined by harsh words and the tolerated presence of the other.

But despite all this, despite the anger and the hurt that has plagued us over the last year since the death of Seven, I did not hesitate to jump in front of her the second I saw the discharge arching out of the failing console. It hit me almost immediately, the electrical current slamming into my chest with such force that they knocked my breath away.

I remember her surprised shout, and the blue shimmer of the transporter beam as it evacuated us to the surface of a volatile planet. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quick enough and bits of shuttle debris made it through the transport with us. Parts of the _Flyer’s_ console and old-fashioned gauges hit me with such force that it knocked me over when we finally materialised on the surface.

It took a few minutes for me to realise that the resulting wounds were probably going to end my life. It took even longer for me to register the sheer panic on the face of the woman who should have held the place of my wife.

Even now, no matter how this plays out and despite the fractured ruins of what was once a cherished friendship, I know I wasn’t wrong to protect her one last time.

Even, if it costs me my life.

“Better me than you,” I whisper above the wind.

She shakes her head vehemently, tendrils of hair whipping about her pale face. It reminds me of another time, many years ago when she had been just as angry with me for protecting her. It was so early on in our journey, and her reaction to my protective streak had surprised both of us. 

In truth, it was probably the protective _need_ I felt toward her that surprised us more.

* * *

 

_“Captain.”_

_I barely uttered her title before she all but run off, scrambling to her feet in her inappropriate, petite heels._

_I sighed, slumping back down against the table that had divided us. The planet was friendly, cheerful and the people loved an excuse for a good party. After days of trade negotiations, we reluctantly agreed on a short shore-leave for the majority of the crew._

_The people had been more than willing to accommodate, and took the opportunity to provide us with a celebration that had rivalled even Neelix’s best. The planning was taken to the extreme, and without much preparation the majority of the Senior Staff found themselves on a transporter pad wearing their best dress clothes and pretentious shoes._

_I did my best to shadow the Captain without being too obvious for most of the evening. Our relationship had grown closer over the months following the duplicate_ Voyager _, ever since I had sought her out late one evening to question her readiness to order the self-destruct. But, I couldn’t ignore the growing attraction I was beginning to feel toward her._

_And, I couldn’t ignore it any longer when an over-intoxicated native from the planet had begun to harass her more than what I deemed appropriate. It had begun to grow cold, and the man had made a few snide remarks about the dress jacket she was wearing. The Captain hadn’t once let it slip that it was mine. Their culture was a little bit backwards when it came to relationships between military officers._

_She was careful all evening, smoothly deflecting the questions relating to relationships with an air of grace that defined her. Only now, the man was becoming insistent and he was starting to read between the lines. I briefly saw his hand raise toward her, and I was standing between them before I let out the breath I was holding._

_It took me a moment to realise that I misjudged the situation, and the man only meant to brush a lock of her hair away from her cheek. The Captain didn’t take my intervention well, scalding me through clenched teeth as she had insisted that it was more than under control._

_It didn’t look that way to me._

_She ordered me to stand down, blue eyes glinting fiercely as she tried to smooth over what was probably a situation on the verge of a smouldering diplomatic incident. The man grumbled, but was quickly escorted off by some of his own people before it grew out of control. I was well prepared to defend my actions, and insist that a stray hand could have turned into something much more._

_I stayed put for no more than ten minutes after she had vanished off down the path behind the buildings, the glittering silver of her dress glinting as she whirled around the corner. I fidgeted, impatiently revising my argument in my head. I was waiting for her to come back on her own._

_Only she didn’t, and I gave in._

_When I finally followed her, against my own better judgement, her form was silhouetted perfectly against the alien moonlight. My dress jacket, too large for her petite shoulders, hung a little bit as she reached up slender arms to elegantly fashion the loose strands of her hair back to where they belong._

_I thought to myself in that moment that she was definitely wasting her time, because if the evening was going to end how I was hoping, the elaborate hairstyle she was trying to save would end up exactly the way I had been envisioning all night – free, tangled and lose for me to run my fingers through it._

_She sensed my approach, stilling in her movements but not turning around. So, I swallowed, and stepped forward to call her name._

_“Kathryn.”_

* * *

 

“Kathryn,” I repeated. I blinked, clearing the memory from my mind. It was the first, and last time I’d seen her in such a dazzling outfit. The dress was something that still hovered in the back of my mind, peppered with images of my dress jacket that still smelled like her and dreams of her pale skin underneath as I’d slid it slowly off her shoulders.

Kathryn moves, urgently, back to my side. Bits of dust from the crevasse flutter around as she slides to a stop. I haven’t even realised she’d move away from me.

“Yes?”

“That was the first time I called you Kathryn,” I say.

Her brow creases, and I can see that the anger from our argument earlier has not quite abated but she’s holding it in for my sake. I have a feeling that she’s beginning to pass off my ramblings as delirium.

Only, the memories have never been clearer.

“That planet,” I explain. “And, you wore my jacket. That was the first time.”

Realisation dawns. Her hands find mine, and she squeezes them gently. The cool touch of her fingers feels odd around my hand that is a little too warm. I can read the lines on her face as she relives the memory, like a ghost fading over her features. 

“Yes,” she agrees. She smiles, only a little. “It was.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile in so _long_ that it pulls painfully in my chest. It’s a totally different pain to the agony I’m now in, but it’s so welcome. I relax a little, let my head rock back and loll to the side. I take a deep, shuddering breath and my eyes slip closed. 

I don’t even hear her desperate shouting of my name, the sound laced through with panic before I give in to the darkness that has been calling.

“Chakotay!”

* * *

 


	3. Ever Since, I Have Been Searching

 

* * *

 

When I wake up for a second time, Kathryn is not looking at me like she was before. It takes me a moment to realise that she must have been gone for a while, as the wind has blown fine particles of dust over the sleeves of my tattered jacket, and the powder has gathered in the corner of my eyes.

I reach up, wincing with agony to swipe at the grit scratching my face.

She’s there again before I even have time to register where she was. That sixth sense we’ve developed for each other over the years has never failed to dull. She looks tired, and afraid as she peers at me. I try not to notice how she studiously avoids looking at my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I say. It feels woefully inadequate. I don’t know why, but I have this overwhelming feeling to keep apologising for whatever is left of my life.

I don’t think an apology will ever be enough, no matter how often I say it. It won’t bring me the peace I once had. The peace I am so desperately trying to find again.

Kathryn has never been able to deal with fear very well. Our fears define us, and her fear has always defined her. I know this because I have only seen it in her twice before this moment. Not even her assimilation could bring the fear out of her.

But, love could. Love has always had her terrified.

Love is what kept us apart all these years. Because she could never separate it from her fear.

I want to apologise again, but she cuts over me. Small hands grab at my dusty cheeks, grinding the particles into my already damaged skin. The fierceness defining her face tells me immediately that she isn’t going to give me some words of small comfort.

“You did this to us,” she utters, so quickly but they are no less devastating than if she had yelled them into my ear. It’s the five most simple words she could ever say and they cut me deeper than the wound in my chest. They shatter through the blood and the splinters of bone and slam straight into my slowing heart.

It hurts because I _know_ it’s true. I made a life-long vow to a woman I shouldn’t have, and I have spent every night since regretting that decision.

And now that woman’s death is haunting both our conscious minds.

But, our relationship, the way it is now - tattered into pieces and scattered throughout the memories of the Delta Quadrant - has never been solely my responsibility to bear.

“You pushed me away, Kathryn,” I say, because it’s all I have left to try to salvage what is left of my once-vicious argument with the petite woman I once loved. “For years,” I add with a whisper.

Somehow, blaming it on her makes it much easier than the truth.

It’s a truth I’ve spent too long avoiding. Because I never took the chance to make my case, and argue with her to see my point of view. That argument never ended in her declaring her love, and us having our happy ending. Instead, we grew further apart and the day she watched me say my vows to someone else, I lost her entirely.

“I had to get away!” she shouts, blue eyes flashing through tears. “I had to leave you behind,” she repeats. Quieter now, and she spares a troubled glance downward, the red now staining through her slim fingers.

It’s the same words she is going to repeat to herself over and over, as she justifies the next few moments in years to come. The years to come where she continues her journey home, without me.

Because we both know I am going to die here.

It’s as if something – or someone – is waiting for me on the other side, for in that moment, during another one of our heated exchanges, the wounds on my chest begin to leak more blood.

I can see it, morbidly hypnotised as red rivulets run to the ground. For a fraction of a second, I don’t notice the pain anymore.

I can’t. I’m too focused on her face, for with frightening clarity I see her terror.

Her eyes dart away, searching for anything to stop the onslaught of blood that just won't stop. I can see it then, the second the terror fades and she makes up her mind to pulls her long shirt over her head, whipping away whatever material it was she had there before.

My sardonic brain jokes lamely that her shirt wouldn't be large enough to make any difference to the gaping hole in my chest. I know how small her shirts have gotten, and I know that somehow, I am the reason why.

Even faced with our grim desperation she is completely, irrationally angry with me. She’s blindsided by her own reaction, covering her fear with anger in the hope she can spare me the pain of having to say goodbye.

I won’t let her though. I won’t leave her behind without uttering that word.

She’s muttering now, eyes creased with concentration as she tries in vain to save my life. I don’t hear her, and I’m oddly silent because I am far too focused on something she can’t see. For in my mind, there is one moment that stands out so clearly in our journey. It was a time when she was irrationally angry at me, and it had nothing to do with our work-related disagreements.

I see her, so clearly in my memory, glaring up at me with blue eyes flashing in intense fury. 

It was the first time I tried to say goodbye.

* * *

 

_I’d always known that she was strong._

_I’d seen her fight, and survive. I’d seen her frustrated, and I’d seen her hold herself with elegance when all she wanted to do was cry. I’d seen her carry the burdens of 140 souls aboard her vessel as we made our way back to the Alpha Quadrant._

_But, I’d never seen her angry._

_Not like this._

_She – like me – was not unmarked by our experiences. There were bruises, cuts and abrasions colouring her delicate skin as she fussed about, studiously avoiding my eye. She held herself well, moving without pain only I knew that the bridge must have received a beating for her to look like that._

_It didn’t occur to me that she would come after me. I thought that without a doubt, her regulations wouldn’t allow it._

_I could see the silent fury simmering beneath the surface as the Doctor updated us both on my condition before deactivating himself. I barely heard him; my eyes never left her form._

_I called to her then, her first name still so new on my tongue._

_“Kathryn.”_

_She turned, slightly._

_“You don’t get to decide if I come after you or not, Commander.”_

_I wanted to open my mouth to apologise. I knew there would be a professional reprimand later, but this felt more personal._

_I’d hurt her. And I’d scared her._

_“Regardless of your personal…connection with Seska,” she continued. My heart had stalled for a moment when she’d hesitated to voice the nature of my relationship with Seska. “You cannot decide of your own accord to just vanish off in some vain attempt to protect your wounded pride.”_

_I suppressed a groan, and stiffly sat up to look at her._

_Her delicate knuckles sported bruises, and slender fingers had tiny grazes that made me wonder what she had been holding onto so tightly. I imagined, in that moment, the absolute worst possible scenario and that the Kazon vessel had done more damage to_ Voyager _than I could see._

_Suddenly, I wished that I hadn’t been unconscious for my rescue._

_“I know you cared for her, Chakotay.”_

_Her words came out in a small, resigned whisper, and she turned to look at me._

_“But you can’t let personal feelings override your judgement in situations like that. It can’t happen again.”_

_Something in her words gave me pause._

_“B’Elanna spoke to you,” I state blandly._

_She nodded with affirmation, but I already knew. The same words had been spoken to me by a rather irate B’Elanna Torres, not long after Seska had abandoned us for the Kazon. I’d been brooding, upset, with more wounded pride than anything else._

_B’Elanna had warned me, rather viscously in those moments, that I needed to be careful and bury my personal feelings for good._

_It was the most Starfleet-like thing I had ever heard from her mouth._

_“Yes, she did.”_

_I smiled, only a little, and fidgeted with the thin blanket draped over my legs._

_“She wanted to make sure I didn’t court-martial you and lock you in the brig,” she said, deadpan. “That was, after I had decided not to leave you behind.”_

_She looked away from me then, her mouth set in a hard, straight line and I knew I was about to endure the full rathe of her fury._

_“I never,_ ever _want to have to face this situation again, Chakotay.”_

_Her words were carefully clipped, enunciated to the full extent of perfection with each passing syllable._

_“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I retorted, equally forcefully._

_I swung my legs off the bed, surprised at the lack of stiffness in my limbs. I had to remember to thank the Doctor later for his work. I’d stepped into her personal space, but she didn’t back down._

_I didn’t expect her to._

_Instead, she looked up at me with hardened eyes and a small gash marring an otherwise perfect cheekbone._

_“You don’t get to decide what is the right thing to do,” she fired back. “That’s not your decision to make.”_

_I bristled, but she was right. I realised in that moment that she always would be._

_“And,” she continued. “I never want to have to find another message buoy like that again. Do I make myself clear?”_

_I swallowed, and glanced down to my bare feet standing toe-to-toe with her perfectly polished Starfleet boots. The woman stood for everything I had grown to hate, and yet I found myself unable to deny her anything._

_Her words were neutral, nothing more than an irate superior officer dressing down a subordinate for their wrongdoings. But, with frightening clarity, I began to read between the lines._

_She had been worried for me._

_I could read between the lines enough to almost hear her words uttered so softly underneath the barrage of anger._

I don’t want you to die.

_I nodded, my tongue darting out to moisten dry lips. I was hypnotised by the way her eyes traced the movement._

_Only she blinked, and it was gone._

_“I’ll be speaking to you tomorrow, in an official capacity about this incident. I want you to report to my Ready Room at oh-nine-hundred hours.”_

_“So, this was unofficial?” I implored. “Off the record?”_

_“All personal conversations are.”_

_She nodded, and excused herself. I saw myself back to my quarters after clearing it with the Doctor who had chosen the exact moment the Captain had vanished through the doors to reappear._

_The next time I saw her was in her Ready Room, officially reprimanding me for my behaviour with not a trace of the personal anger she’d harboured toward me only hours before._

* * *

 

“Chakotay!”

Her voice calls me back. I blink rapidly before my vision clears. Her dirty face is more smudged now, streaks of red marring her perfect skin.  

She’s so pale; the dark circles under her eyes so dark and heavy.

How could I not notice how dull her eyes had grown?

I ignore the voice inside my mind. It’s the voice that always whispered the truth, even when I wanted to hide it from myself. I’ve avoided the truth for so long, and despite all this I still don’t want to face it.

“I’m here,” I croak, through parched lips.

The relief on her face is evident, and for a moment I honestly think she is about to weep from exhaustion. Instead, she leans down and cups my cheeks with both bloodied hands. The metallic scent fills my nostrils with dread.

I don’t want to face death, I realise. Not yet.

I’m not ready.

I need to fight, if not for me then for her. I reach up, slowly and painfully to stroke a shaking finger down the side of her moistened cheek. The bones are fragile, worn. The lines of stress don’t fade from her features even with my touch.

“Don’t you die on me,” she murmurs. All trace of her earlier anger is fading. I realise it’s because she doesn’t know how to feel.

The possibility of either one of us dying has always been a reality we’ve studiously ignored. We’ve been lucky, I realise. The realities, temporal incursions or timelines unlived that we have encountered over the years’ number close to the hundreds. In almost all of them the alternate versions of ourselves have been alone.

“You’ve told me that before,” I say.

“I know,” she says. And she has, just not in so many words. Her voice is so small and so unlike her usual authoritative grace that it takes me back, and my breath catches in my throat. I cough, choking on my own air and wincing as each involuntary muscle spasm spurts further blood from my temporary bandages.

I can’t hear her panicked words over the stop of my own struggle.

When it finally ceases and I draw a shaky breath in, her brow is creased with worry.

“ _Chakotay_.”

I’ve always loved the way she’s said my name. Each lilt of the syllable said with such precision and care in a way reserved solely for me. It’s going to be the last words I’ll hear, I’m sure of it.

“You have to _try_ , Chakotay.”

“You’ve told me that before too,” I joke. The humour falls short of both our ears.

I know she’s reliving the same memory I saw earlier. I can see it in her actions, with the way her hands on my face don’t let go. We’ve been teetering on the edge of this relationship, a _real_ relationship for years.

Finally, she’s starting to be honest with herself. Her protocols and parameters are slipping away from us both as she begs me with terrified eyes not to leave her behind.

I think I am starting to see the honesty in us both with frightening clarity because it should never have taken us this long to say how we really feel. What we have done to each other over the years is not something born from love.

But in an ironic way, it was the love I had for her that started this all.

The love I still have.

I focus on the gentle touch of her thumbs, stroking absently over my cheek, smearing the grim and dirt further into my skin.

My hand, the one still hovering, encloses around the bird-like bones of her wrist.

For the first time in what feels like months, my guard is coming down.

Afters years, Kathryn’s is too.

Only, something tells me it’s probably going to be too late.

* * *

 


	4. In All The Wrong Places

 

* * *

It's quiet now. The wind has finally begun to die down and the flashing overhead has grown less in its frequency. The silence is eerie.

Taking advantage of the silence, Kathryn moves off somewhere, muttering about looking for things to salvage from the wreck of the _Flyer._ I joke lamely that we need to install protocols to ensure MedKits are beamed out with the occupants in the emergency transports.

Only I know that I will not live to see that happen.

I groan, shifting myself on the hard, rocky ground and she's by my side in an instant. Her hands work insistently checking the make-shift bandage of her grey undershirt. For the first time, I realise she is clad in nothing more than her tank top, and the fine hairs of her arms are raised in silent protest to the cold.

I can't recall what happened to her jacket, although I have a feeling that it was part of the rags she threw aside earlier, caked through with blood.

"What do you need, Chakotay?" she asks me.

My answer is off my tongue before I can even stop myself. "You."

I expect her to reprimand me again, to grow angry and push me away. Only she doesn't, and she leans further down into my field of vision with wide, terrified and sad eyes and a mouth open just enough to be a tantalising invitation.

My breath hitches as her hand touches my cheek again, an elegant thumb sweeping along my face and resting at the corner of my lips. Her own lips press down, and open against my mouth.

She tastes just like I remember, warm and soft but lacking the hope and light she once held. The metallic taste of blood is strong, and I realise in that short moment that it's probably because she's been biting her lips for so long in a futile effort to hold it together.

It's going to be the last time I hold her so near.

She's close enough to me now that I can hear the pounding of her heartbeat against my forearm, folded neatly between us both so that she doesn't press down on my chest. The way it's racing reminds me of a sparrow.

With a shuddering breath, she pulls back just enough so that our lips part, but she doesn't move away.

"You asked me what I needed," I whisper into her mouth.

"Yes," she breathes. "I did."

I'm struck by another time she'd asked me the same question.

* * *

_I hesitated, flittering outside her quarters and unable to bring myself to ring the chime on her door._

_It was late, and we have been avoiding each other off-duty for months. Our last friendly exchange, unforced and genuine over a dinner in her quarters was the last time I had spent time with her. I could recall the Stardate, the hour, the minutes and even the seconds._

_It was the night I had approached her to tell her I'd begun to date Seven of Nine._

_She'd smiled, taken it in with her usual grace and poise. But the smile was forced, and I could see the tension gathering in the corner of her mouth._

_I'd not been in her quarters since that evening._

_Reaching forward, I gathered myself together and rang the chime. The doors slid open only a fraction later. She sat on her couch, gazing thoughtfully out at the stars that passed us by._

_A lone candle stood on her coffee table._

_She turned toward me, gathering the edges of a well-worn pink robe and pulling it a little tighter over the sharp lines of her collarbones. If she was surprised to see me, it didn't show._

" _Commander?"_

_The use of my title had lost the sting over the previous months. Any feigned friendship between us was purely there for the sake of the crew, and in closed quarters that friendship vanished entirely._

_She stood up, and walked a little way toward me. Cautiously avoiding looking directly at her, I found the candlelight flickering and dancing light off the walls fascinating._

" _Something wrong?"_

_I swallowed, feeling the pounding of my heart in my chest. My hands clenched by my side._

" _I came to ask you to marry me."_

_The words left my mouth in a rush. My eyes found hers across the darkened room. Whatever colour was in her face disappeared._

" _I beg your pardon?"_

_Her words were stronger than I thought possible, without the faintest hint of a waiver. When her eyebrows raised in silent question, I realised suddenly just how my statement could have been interpreted._

" _I mean, I'd like you to marry me."_

_She folded her arms over her chest, fingers fiddling with the tie on her robe. Still, she did not move toward me, but merely stared at me. I had the feeling she was trying to work out if I had been drinking, or lost my mind completely._

_When I looked back, months later, I realised that I probably had lost my mind, at least a little._

" _Marry you?" she echoed back at me. She chewed the inside of her lip thoughtfully. "Marry you_ to _someone, Commander?"_

_I fumbled over the words. "Yes. To Seven."_

_The second I said them, uttered those three words, all hope vanished from her face entirely. I didn't even realise it had been there to begin with, not until I saw it leave. It had been so long since she had looked at me with anything other than the eyes of a Captain that I had forgotten how she looked underneath it all._

" _I see."_

 _The silence was almost deafening. The gentle thrum of_ Voyager's _engines had never seemed so quiet as they did in that moment._

" _Please?" I added, lamely and stupidly._

" _You've both agree this is what you wanted?" she implored, standing ramrod straight despite her bare feet and delicate dress._

_I cleared my throat, and tugged on my ear. The gesture was painfully familiar and I remembered another time, years ago when Q had offered the Captain a similar proposition. Only, I knew she could never be serious in her considerations, and it had given me small comfort to know she was never going to have a child with him._

_Now the roles were reversed, the Captain didn't have that luxury. Because she knew that without a doubt, I would never make this declaration of love toward someone if I wasn't serious. It wasn't in my nature._

" _This is a small ship, Commander. We can't have any public disagreements that will affect the operations of_ Voyager."

_I wondered if she was talking about Seven and myself. A part of me hoped that she was referring to something else entirely._

" _I know, Captain. And yes, this is what we want. Although I haven't asked Seven yet."_

_Her eyebrows creased, and she narrowed her eyes at me. "Then why -"_

_I cut over her. "Because, I needed to make sure you'd do it."_

_She stepped toward me, chin pointed up in defiance as she challenged me on my logic. It was only as she stepped closer that I could see the hurt on her face, poorly hidden behind a look of anger and frustration._

" _You don't need me," she said._

_And, I knew she wasn't referring to her ability as Captain to perform marriages. I needed her for that. But, she was challenging me on something else entirely and I realised that I needed her on a completely different level._

_I always had._

" _I'm not asking for your approval as the Captain."_

_Her eyes closed for a moment. She took a deep, stabilising breath. "Then, what do you want, Chakotay? What do you need?"_

_Maybe it was the way she said my name, the sound so foreign from her mouth. Maybe it was the way, after all those months – years – that she finally looked up at me with such an unguarded expression of both hurt and want._

_Maybe it was just our time._

_Or, maybe it was the knowledge, that realisation that with all the time in the universe, we would never have our time._

_But, I finally answered her with the utmost honesty._

" _You."_

* * *

"Chakotay?"

She calls me back, and I blink rapidly. She's still so close, blue eyes imploring me to come back to her from my memories. Those memories have never been clearer.

"I need to ask you something," I say.

She stalls and pulls back a fraction more, swallowing roughly and closing her eyes. I have no doubt that her thoughts are morbid, and she's preparing herself to hear my final wishes. I don't envy her right now, because I've imagined myself in the same situation for years. Only it's me begging her not to die and leave me behind.

I have never told her that on my person terminal, listed under a file with her name on it, is the last video she'll ever see of me. Amongst those words, those final whispered goodbyes through a computer screen, will be my final wishes. But this, what I have to ask her next, has to be said in person.

Giving a short, curt nod, she allows me to continue.

"I want you to let this go. Don't let this death consume you."

I don't point out that it's _my_ death that she needs to let go. I can't even bring myself to say the words to her.

"How can I not?" she almost yells. Her despair is frightening. "It's _you_ , Chakotay. It's _you._ "

And I know how hard it will be for her, I really do. Because, I've imagined it too.

On some small level, I am grateful that it is not me watching her die. I've done it before, years ago on another alien world with bright flashes and howling wind and I promised myself that I wouldn't ever do that again.

I also know that whilst she still captains _Voyager,_ she will solider on each day and I know that she will get this crew home.

It's when she gets home, when she finally makes it, that scares me.

Because she will never get up to fight again. I send a silent wish to the universe, begging someone, something, _anything_ to watch over her and make sure she doesn't let this bury her.

She doesn't deserve to lose herself like this, to die out here among the stars on a journey she would not have chosen for herself. She deserves love, and peace surrounded by a family filled with happiness as she finally slips away to another place.

Only, I realise, that she has already done so. And she has already lost too much of herself out here so that she will never be whole again. It began years ago, when she first stood face-to-face with a member for the Devore Imperium and it ended the night I asked her to marry me to someone else.

I'd failed to see it, until now. Maybe it was because I didn't want to see it.

My death will be the final catalyst, taking that final part of Kathryn with me when I leave this world.

* * *

 


	5. To Find it Again

* * *

I'm growing cold.

Kathryn sits to my left, knees folded up close to her chest as silent tears track down dirty cheeks. _Voyager_ is taking too long to find us. We both know it.

She turns her head, and inclines it in my direction. The strong profile of her jawline stands out against the slimness of her neck. Like me, she is shivering. It feels like I've been here for hours, although I know that it has likely been only one.

I also know I probably don't have another hour to spare.

Her eyes find mine.

"I love you," I choke out, slowly, deliberately if only to see the pain rise in her frightened eyes. I don't know why I am choosing now of all moments to tell her what I feel. I think it's because I've never seen her look so scared, or so fragile.

A part of me thinks that deep down, it was always going to come out like this. That we – Kathryn and Chakotay - were never destined to have our happy ending. I probably realised it the day I said 'I do' to Seven.

She watches me, silently and so unguarded that it takes me by surprise. "It's been a long time since anyone has said that to me."

I don't know what I am expecting, but it isn't that.

I try desperately to scoff sarcastically, to belittle her words if only so she can hurt as much as I am inside. The pain has never been just physical. But I can't, because when it comes down to it, I know I can never hurt her.

And, she looks so defeated, so resigned to the fact that this will be our final stand. She shuffles, half standing and crawling closer to me. She lifts the tatters of her shirt off my chest to check underneath and the expression in her eyes tell me all I need to know.

The words I so badly need to say won't come, and I can't rise over that veil of hurt and pain anymore to get them out. I am not even sure what to say to her anymore. I think maybe, everything we ever needed to say has already been said. Just not in so many words.

Her hands press down, holding what's left of her undershirt against the wound. She has such beautiful hands. Her head shakes softly.

"Love makes you do strange things," she murmurs, so quickly I barely catch it.

I don't know if she's talking about us, or something else. For years, we've avoided the attraction that sparked between us. We've sacrificed so much, waiting for a day that will never come. We won't make it home together now, and somehow the pain, the waiting and the anguish, it doesn't seem worth it.

None of it does.

I'm reminded of something else, something I read years ago in her quarters late one evening when I was waiting for her to come back from another crisis somewhere else on the ship. I can't remember anything about the crisis, or the date. But I remember the poem, something from an Ancient Earth philosopher who spoke of a world we could only dream of.

"Love is a serious mental disease," I grind out forcefully and I realise that I have never quoted so much philosophy in my life as I have in the time I have been by her side.

Only this time there won't be any temporal incursions to save her from remembering. There won't be any thinly-veiled seduction attempts over bottles of cider. These last words are going to follow her all the way back to the damned Alpha Quadrant and I'm not going to give her the comfort of her favourite _Dante_ in my final moments.

She looks surprised for a second, but the ache in my chest is getting worse and I can no longer tell if it is her hands causing the pain, or the giant wound caused by flying bits of the _Flyer_ that I know, without a doubt, will end my life.

Kathryn smiles sadly, but with such finality that it hurts a little bit inside. A small, shaking hand reaches up and touches my cheek so gently I barely feel it. She looks so beautiful, hair whipping about in the gale-force winds that have since started up again, and stare at her, unable to form the words.

She is saying goodbye.

I breathe in deeply, and it hurts. My eyes slip closed, and I'm almost certain, as I exhale my final breath that I catch a glimpse of shimmering blue.

 _Voyager_.

Something tells me that they are going to be too late.

* * *

_You took a piece of me_

_A long time ago_

_Ever since, I have been searching_

_In all the wrong places_

_To find it again -_ [Inspirational Prompt]

* * *

 

* * *

END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Now that the judging has been completed, I can reveal my sabotages. 
> 
> I was tasked with the sabotage of including flashbacks, and having to write in first person. We received bonus points for using "Love is a serious mental disease" in a line of dialogue. 
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful Lodessa for judging Alpha Group Round 1! The second round is due on 2nd December.. watch this space!


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